


Sweatpants

by shady



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: And angsty, Beefy Daichi, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Sleepy Cuddles, Suga is so thirsty, gray sweatpants, you know the type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shady/pseuds/shady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi wears the same pair of gray sweatpants every time he spends the night, and they're driving Suga insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweatpants

**Author's Note:**

> if you follow me on tumblr you know i have the biggest thing for drawing beefy daichi so. i wrote a fic.
> 
> if you want to see bara!daichi wearing a skimpy swimsuit, drawn by yours truly: http://kyllu.tumblr.com/post/128252648874/me-draws-really-innocent-first-year-daisuga-me

Suga thinks he might be losing his mind.

Scratch that--he _knows_ that, for every second that passes, his sanity ebbs bit by bit. And it’s all Daichi’s fault.

For years, it’s been bothering Suga, but he never voiced his thoughts. Today, though--today was the day he reached his breaking point. Suga’s hands are buried in his hair, tugging fistfuls in his distress.

Daichi was wearing those _damn_ _sweatpants_ again. The same gray sweatpants he’s been bringing to Suga’s when he spends the night since they were first years. The problem with that being, of course, they were too ridiculously, tauntingly _tight_.

When they were fifteen, they were comically baggy, sagging at Daichi’s ankles as he tightened up the drawstring. In their second year, he started filling them out until they actually fit, and then they were just another pair of nondescript gray sweats.

Until Suga came back from vacation on summer break and Daichi was suddenly...big. They had always been around the same height after Daichi’s last growth spurt caught him up to Suga, but now Daichi had _mass_. He was toned before, sure--the unrelenting volleyball practices forced everyone on the team to stay in shape.

But then Daichi showed up at Suga’s house to hang out as planned, and Suga nearly dropped his jaw on the floor. His broad chest and shoulders were stretching his t-shirt oh-so-nicely, and Suga would swear up and down that Daichi’s biceps were glistening, _gleaming_ , in the sun. To this day, Suga can’t find the right words to describe the image of Daichi suddenly popping up, somehow having become even more attractive.

Suga doesn’t remember how long he stared until Daichi self-consciously rubbed the back of his head. If Suga had enough blood flowing to his brain to register that, he would have laughed, because what could Daichi possibly have to be self-conscious about?

“Hey, Suga. You gonna let me in?” he’d chuckled.

Suga found exactly nothing at all amusing about the situation. His crush on Daichi had been difficult enough to deal with, and then Daichi showed up on his doorstep, newfound muscles bulging and tantalizing and _lickable_ , like some kind of wet dream.

Leave it to Daichi to do the impossible and make Suga fall even harder for him.

That was weeks ago, and Suga thought he maybe slightly was getting used to this new, beefy Daichi.

But Daichi always did like proving Suga wrong.

Daichi is spending the night, nothing unusual; it’s become such a common event for them to sleep over at the other’s place that each has a spare change of clothes at the other’s house. It would be like any other time--except it’s the first time Daichi’s slept over since that fateful day during summer break.

Once Daichi changes into his usual pajamas, it’s all over for Suga. He wants to scream with frustration, yell into the skies, ask what he’s ever done to deserve this.

Daichi’s wearing those godforsaken sweatpants again, which, until now had been innocent enough. Tonight, though, they’re anything but. Those gray sweatpants are responsible for the murder of one Sugawara Koushi.

They hug Daichi’s impossible thighs so deliciously that Suga has to bury his face into his pillow so he doesn’t let a whimper escape. They leave absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination, and Suga must have done something horrible in a past life because this is his hell and he is _suffering_.

Suga has never been more conscious of Daichi walking away from him, watching the mesmerizing movements of his glutes working in those sweatpants. Not to mention the fact that Daichi has apparently decided to throw out all his loose t-shirts and is currently strutting around with all his muscles on display. His back especially, underneath that form-fitting, useless piece of cotton, makes Suga bite the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.

The shirt somehow makes it even more obscene than if Daichi just went topless.

The second that thought pops to mind, Suga immediately regrets it, because now all that’s flashing in front of his eyes is shirtless Daichi. Pecs glistening in the low lamplight of Suga’s room, abs slowly rippling as Daichi leans over him and--

Suga needs to stop fantasizing about his best friend while he’s in the same room. If his brain was online, he might feel ashamed. As it is, Suga gives up on thinking in favor of admiring Daichi getting the futon ready on the floor.

Daichi looks up in the middle of leaning over to grab a pillow, on his knees, and asks, “Are you okay? You’re being quiet today.”

Suga makes some sort of squeaking noise in response. He clears his throat, tries again. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just tired.”

He immediately feels guilty at the doubt on Daichi’s face, mingled with concern. “Sorry, really, I’m fine.” Suga clambers down from his bed to sit next to Daichi, nudging his shoulder and looking at him earnestly.

Daichi studies his face for a moment, and Suga wills himself not to blush. When Daichi’s satisfied, he offers Suga a lopsided grin.

“We should get to bed if you’re tired, then,” he says, pressing a warm hand to Suga’s thigh.

Suga checks his clock. 8:32 PM. He suppresses a groan at what a horribly good and considerate friend Daichi is; it makes it all the more difficult to lust after him when he’s worried about Suga’s wellbeing.

_I’m fine, really, I just want to jump your bones at all times_ , Suga wants to say, except it probably won’t give Daichi any more peace of mind.

Instead, he stretches out his legs and determinedly does not stare at Daichi’s sweatpants. His eyes find Daichi’s face, and he’s not sure that’s any better, because Daichi’s eyes are soft and warm and chocolate brown and Suga is so, _so_ , gone on him. It sometimes makes his chest hurt with how much he’s in love with Daichi, with his kindness, his patience, his determination--everything that makes Daichi so acutely, unapologetically, _Daichi_.

It’s not like Daichi talks about girls around Suga or anything, but occasionally Suga would catch his eyes flicking to the pretty girl in their class, or the cute manager on the other team, and Suga can feel his stomach drop like a stone. He doesn’t regret falling for Daichi--if he had to fall for anyone, he is infinitely grateful that it was his best friend. He just wishes it didn’t _hurt_ so much, sometimes.

But not all the time. Not the times when they’re walking home during still summer nights, not speaking, just appreciating the companionship. Not the times when they’re sitting in Daichi’s room, crying from laughter instead of studying. Not the times when Suga’s heart swells with pride upon watching Daichi speak to their team, motivating them with the strength of his words.

And not the times like these, sitting on the floor of Suga’s room, only illuminated by the old, flickering lamp on his desk, sides pressed comfortably together. Suga often finds himself in situations like this, wondering what it would be like to close the bare few inches between their lips. To feel how Daichi’s would feel against his, slightly chapped as they always were.

Suga swallows hard. He looks away, picking at his nails. “Um,” he says, for no reason at all, suddenly finding the silence stifling.

Suga feels Daichi’s socked foot knock into his. “Are you sure you’re okay?” The worry is back in his voice, and Suga can’t look up because he knows he’ll just see Daichi’s stupid adorable concerned expression, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down in a faint moue of distress.

“Um,” he says again. “I think I’m really tired right now--I’m just going to lie down.”

“Okay,” Daichi responds easily.

He gets up, and Suga sees him extend a hand in his peripheral vision. He takes it and lets Daichi tug him up until they’re standing toe-to-toe. Suga eyes the tiny distance between their feet with disdain.

“Suga.”

Suga makes a questioning noise that sounds dull even to his ears, still refusing to look up.

“ _Suga_ ,” Daichi repeats, stern this time.

“Yes?” Suga replies innocently, finding the floor extremely interesting.

He doesn’t expect the hand to come up and grip his chin, firmly tilting his head up so that Suga was forced to meet Daichi’s eyes. They’re standing too close together, chests nearly touching. Suga bites his lip. Watches Daichi’s eyes flick down.

Suga wishes his mind would stop projecting his own desires onto Daichi. It’d make quietly and embarrassedly nursing this crush a lot easier.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Daichi’s eyes are warning Suga not to fool around.

“What do you mean?” Suga never listened to Daichi anyways.

Daichi’s eyebrow twitches dangerously. “Are you okay, at least? Since you won’t let me help.”

Suga wants to claw at his own face. Here he was, unable to deal with his idiotic crush on his best friend, making Daichi worry about him as if there was a _real_ problem. _Don’t you know?_ Suga thinks wryly. _You_ are _the problem_.

It doesn’t help that Daichi’s hand is still holding his chin in place, and Suga’s eyes have nowhere to go but to Daichi’s. He hopes they don’t give away how badly Suga wants to wrap himself around Daichi and just hug him until he forgets the fact that Daichi doesn’t love him back.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. You can’t help with this one,” Suga says finally.

Daichi doesn’t look satisfied by the response in the least bit, but must realize that Suga wasn’t going to say any more than that. He presses his lips together, still trying to read Suga’s eyes.

“You know I’m here for you, right? If you ever need me.” His expression is so earnest, so open, willing Suga to believe it so badly as if there were ever any doubt in the first place.

And Suga feels like the worst person in the world, making Daichi have that kicked-puppy look, thinking Suga doesn’t trust him enough.

Suga sucks in a deep breath, and puts his hand on Daichi’s arm where he’s still gripping Suga’s chin. “I know you are, Daichi. You just really can’t help this one. Trust me.” He musters up all the emotion he could manage into his words, trying so hard to make Daichi stop looking so _vulnerable_.

They’re laughable, his words, for all that they’re true. Ironic. Daichi can’t help, and is making it worse by the minute, with his soft concern for Suga, always, _always_ trying to make things better for others.

Suga finds himself snorting. He’s so in love with Daichi that it hurts.

And then, mortifyingly, Suga feels the tears well up in his eyes, vision going blurry. He sees Daichi’s eyes widen in alarm before he’s turning away, scrubbing at his face with shame.

Suga mumbles a stream of _sorry sorry sorry_ as he wills himself to stop crying, shoulders hunched over his ears as he tries to dry his face. It’s no use--the dam he carefully constructed over the years of slowly realizing he was in love with Daichi burst, tears flowing freely and dripping onto the floor in sad, fat drops.

Suga’s vaguely aware of Daichi moving behind him, and then he’s being turned around by his shoulders. A tissue is gently mopping at his cheeks, and Suga can’t see Daichi through the haze of tears in his eyes, but the tenderness of his hand only makes Suga cry harder.

A hand is holding the back of his head, pressing his face to Daichi’s shoulder as Daichi wraps his arms around Suga. A small part of Suga wants to laugh at the fact that this is what he wanted, what he started crying like a child over, yet it’s only working to make him impossibly sadder.

The only time Suga could have Daichi hold him like he wants is when Suga is crying. It’s not a comforting thought.

Daichi guides him until they’re sitting on the bed, and Suga can’t muster the energy to pick his head up from Daichi’s shoulder. The tears are slowing at this point, but there’s probably a messy trail of snot on Daichi’s shirt that Suga doesn’t want to reveal.

He doesn’t know how much time passes with him tucked into Daichi’s arms, his legs having at one point been thrown over Daichi’s lap. Eventually, Daichi leans back so they’re lying down sideways on the bed, Suga still sniffling softly.

When enough time passes that Suga thinks he can speak without breaking down again, he mumbles into Daichi’s now-damp t-shirt, “Well that was one of my more embarrassing moments.” He laughs wetly, self-deprecatingly.

Daichi hums deep in his chest before turning Suga’s face with a hand. Suga’s eyes fixate on the wet spot as Daichi wipes at his face with a tissue.

“I could do that myself, you know,” Suga says, even as he stays put in the warm cradle of Daichi’s arms.

Daichi continues mutely, tossing the balled-up tissue into the trash when he’s done. “You good?”

Suga hasn’t looked at Daichi since he started crying, and isn’t about to start now. He makes a noncommittal noise, squeezing his eyes shut when Daichi’s arm comes back up to hold him.

Suga hates it. He hates that it feels so good. He hates that Daichi can hold him like this so easily, so simply and _unthinkingly_ while Suga is agonizing about every point of contact between them. He hates that Daichi thinks he’s just comforting a friend right now, when it means so much more to Suga.

They’re quiet for a while, Suga drifting off from cry-induced exhaustion.

When he opens his eyes again, the light is off and they’re lying the right way up on the bed. Suga’s back is facing the wall, Daichi curled around his front protectively with an arm casually thrown around him. At any other time, Suga would be secretly thrilled at the fact that Daichi must have been able to pick him up in his sleep, but now he’s just tired.

His eyes seek out Daichi’s face and find it soft and slack with sleep. Suga can’t stop himself from tentatively reaching out a hand to stroke Daichi’s cheek with just the lightest graze of his fingertips. He doesn’t know when else he’d get the chance to do so.

Daichi’s eyelids flutter, and Suga yanks his hand back, careful not to jostle the bed too much.

“Suga?” Daichi murmurs sleepily, blinking down at him. It’s so damn endearing that Suga feels his stomach flop.

“Hey,” he replies, voice barely a whisper.

Daichi exhales, eyes struggling to stay open as he unconsciously presses in closer to Suga. “How are you?”

Suga thinks about it for a while. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, and Daichi must be able to tell because he leaves it at that.

Then he stares at Suga intently until he squirms under the gaze, wondering if there's still snot on his face.

Daichi sighs, closing his eyes, much to Suga’s relief. “Your eyes are going to be all puffy at school, now.”

That startles a laugh out of Suga, surprised at the non sequitur. “What?”

“Your eyes. Who will all the girls whisper about in class, now?” His voice is sleep-slurred.

Suga smiles fondly despite everything. Daichi trying to speak coherently while dozing off was always Suga’s favorite part of sleepovers. “You, like always. Nobody whispers about me like that.”

It also gave Suga more freedom to talk, since half the time Daichi doesn’t remember the conversations come morning.

Daichi’s brow furrows in a faint frown, eyes squinting at Suga. “No, of course they do,” he insists. “You’re pretty.”

Suga’s thankful for the dark when he blushes furiously. It was ridiculous that that should please him so much, and he tries not to view it with a bittersweet edge.

He tries to laugh it off, saying, “Well, you’re the only one that thinks so then.”

“Good,” is all Daichi says, satisfied. Suga has no time to ask him what he means, as suddenly, Daichi is rolling over, half on top of him. “Good,” he says again, and promptly falls asleep.

-

The sun is streaming through the window when Suga wakes up, and he and Daichi are tangled in a mess of limbs.

Daichi hums when he sees Suga is awake, immediately asking, “How are you?”

“Better, I think.” Suga chews on his lip. “Sorry about last night,” he says, averting his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Daichi replies, easy. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

They’re quiet for a while, just facing each other as golden motes of dust float around overhead.

Then Daichi frowns at him, and says, “Your eyes are swollen--do you want me to get you a wet towel?”

He stares, puzzled, when Suga snorts. “What?”

“I’m pretty sure we had this same conversation last night.” Suga’s face is buried in Daichi’s arm to muffle his laughter.

“Oh. What’d we say?” He smiles softly.

“You said something about the girls not liking me anymore. _Little do you know_ , no one likes me anyways,” Suga jokes, without self-pity. He doesn’t want them to like him.

The corners of Daichi’s lips tug down in a frown. “I like you,” he states, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but you’re my best friend--you have to like me,” Suga says, even as his heart skips a beat.

Daichi smiles, a weird expression on his face. He opens his mouth. Shuts it. He presses his lips together, looking conflicted.

Suga silently raises an eyebrow at him.

Daichi seems to steel himself, drawing himself up as much as is possible while lying in bed. “This is probably a bad time to mention it, but--I’ve been in love with you since we were first years.” 

As soon as it’s out, Daichi’s eyes are wide, searching Suga’s face for-- _something_ , Suga doesn’t know what, because he’s not even breathing anymore.

There’s a ringing in his ears and he can’t feel his toes anymore and how is he supposed to use his lungs again?

He slowly becomes aware of Daichi saying something, tries to focus on the voice going, “--ermind, just ignore that. It’s--I--Suga? I won’t try anything, sorry, I just--”

And he’s pulling away, expression closed off and _no, that’s not what Suga wanted_ , but he can’t find the words he needs, so his arms reach out on their own accord, and Suga mashes his face into Daichi’s.

Suga has never kissed anyone before. Suga has never tried to aim his lips onto another person’s before. And so, he ends up missing Daichi’s mouth, nearly catching the corner but not quite, and smushing his nose into Daichi’s cheekbone.

There’s a noise of surprise from somewhere underneath Suga, and then hands are coming up to cradle his face, moving him to align their lips.

Suga has no idea what to do at this point. He’s just acutely aware of the fact that he’s kissing Daichi, that Daichi has been _in love_ with him for two years, that Suga has somehow toppled on top of Daichi, and Daichi is opening his mouth and--oh, that’s his tongue.

Suga makes a small noise and pulls away, reluctant as he goes.

“You love me?” he asks in a small voice, afraid Daichi is going to change his mind and take it back.

Daichi grins up at him. “Since that one time after practice you gave me half your lunch.  I think I already ate mine.”

Suga laughs, pressing his face into the crook of Daichi’s neck. “Are you kidding me? Because I gave you my food?” He feels giddy, his entire body light with pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Not _just_ because of the food, but that’s maybe...75 percent of the reason why.” There’s a smile in Daichi’s voice. His hands come up to stroke Suga’s back, and then wrap around him in a hug.

Suga feels like he’s about to explode.

He picks his head up, looks Daichi square in the eye. “I love you, too.”

“Thank God,” Daichi exhales in relief. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, I just--” Suga breaks off into a self-conscious laugh. “I was too in shock to respond.”

Suga puts his head on Daichi’s chest again before popping right back up to look at Daichi. He couldn’t wipe the maniacal grin off his face, and his cheeks were starting to hurt.

Daichi looks at him quizzically, and Suga pokes him in the chest. “You love me,” he says, feeling a thrill at the words. Daichi hums in agreement, leaning up to press a kiss to Suga’s forehead.

And Suga’s face is back to Daichi’s chest, blushing profusely--he can feel the ruddy heat radiating from his cheeks.

He mumbles another, “You love me,” into Daichi’s shirt, low with joyful disbelief.

“Yeah,” Daichi says. “I love you.”

-

They stay in bed for a while after, and Suga finally gets those damned gray sweatpants off.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this last night instead of sleeping and it started off with suga lusting after daichi and suddenly became a lot more. it was gonna end with the boys doin' the do but something went wrong in the middle. i'm a glutton for pain.
> 
> end doodle by me :~)


End file.
